


With Bated Breath

by vvitchering (Witchering)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship/Love, Loneliness, M/M, Oh My God They Were Travel Companions, Pre-Relationship, and they were travel companions, developing feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:41:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24775534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchering/pseuds/vvitchering
Summary: Geralt struggles with the return of loneliness after he and Jaskier go their separate ways for a while. Jaskier may be out of sight, but he's never out of mind. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 202





	With Bated Breath

**Author's Note:**

> They're not together yet but they're, like, RIGHT on the cusp of realizing they're both idiots and could have been making out for at least the last several years. All of the necessary affection and attraction is there on both sides, they're just. Dumb.

They can’t travel together all the time. Contracts and winters and other various circumstances mean Geralt and Jaskier can go months to several seasons between in-person meetings. Never in a hundred years did Geralt believe he could miss someone’s company as much as he misses the bard’s during those times.

There’s acute embarrassment and loneliness to adjust to when he shifts in Roach’s saddle to speak to Jaskier and finds only empty air and the dusty road at his side. The nights spent with only the crackle of the fire for company lose their past appeal. Sleep comes slower and harder without the gentle strumming of a lute or the sound of soft even breaths to soothe him. It’s unbecoming of a witcher to struggle with such feelings. It’s unprofessional. It aches like a gaping wound in his chest. Jaskier’s presence has transformed loneliness from a familiar and expected companion to a wrathful ghost that haunts every minute Geralt spends alone.

And then the letters begin to find him. The first is handed to him by an innkeeper who recognizes him instantly. “White Wolf, there’s a note left here for you from your bard.” His bard. There was a time in recent memory that Geralt would have taken issue with the use of such possessive language. Now it barely registers as odd as Geralt snatches the parchment from the innkeeper's hand. In the years he’s known Jaskier, and in all of their other periods of forced separation, there’s never been letters from him. With their equally nomadic lifestyles, written correspondence is difficult if not entirely impossible. But there’s no reason to assume the letter is a forgery. The parchment is sealed with a bit of wax and bears the imprint of Jaskier’s signet ring. It even smells faintly of Jaskier, sandalwood and lavender with just the barest hint of the rosin he uses on his lute.

Geralt locks himself in his room for the evening to pour over the letter. For an educated man of noble birth, Jaskier has terrible handwriting and an annoying habit of crossing out bits of sentences he decides he doesn’t like, making his message hard to decipher. 

The topmost part of the parchment is heavily scratched out with ink, as though Jaskier struggled with choosing a greeting. Geralt thinks he can make out the beginnings of “my dearest—“ amongst the crazed scribbling, but he can’t be sure. That kind of language does fit with the strange sort of casual affection Geralt has come to expect from him. Jaskier had eventually settled simply on 

“Geralt,”

“My sincerest hope is that this letter finds you whole and well despite your recent lack of my sparkling presence. I can easily picture your sour expression as you read this and I must ask you to please stop pulling such faces, you brute.”

“My job is hard enough without your stormy countenance frightening the population I try so hard to win over for you. I can assure you the proprietor of this establishment is a fan of my recent witcher related works; you will find you can rest comfortably here. You’re welcome.”

“No doubt you’ll find it to be a waste of both our time, but I confess I have very little news to share or much real purpose for writing at all. I simply found myself craving your stunning conversational skills and infamously cheerful disposition. 

I miss you, my friend.”

There’s more to the letter. Jaskier rambles for a time about his journey back to Oxfenfurt, where he’s accepted a position as an instructor at the academy. He doesn’t sound particularly enthusiastic about such a sedentary and purely academic life, not since he’s had a taste of the adventure and peril a life spent on the Path brings. Geralt feels something settle inside him knowing that Jaskier’s biggest complaint is that he’s bored. 

The bard’s voice and personality are so clear in his writing that Geralt can easily hear his exasperated sighs and see his dramatic hand waving. By the time he’s reached the end of the letter, the aching loneliness he’s carried with him for weeks has eased. Jaskier promises more letters will find their way to him and, no, he won’t be sharing the details of how that little trick works so Geralt shouldn’t worry his pretty head about it. Geralt feels his own lips quirk up slightly as he pictures the smug set of Jaskier’s mouth as he enjoys the rare bit of mystery he can hold over Geralt’s head.

He reads the letter twice more that same evening. 

When Geralt moves on, he’s well rested, well fed, and well supplied. Jaskier’s letter is folded carefully and stowed with the rest of his valuables in the hidden compartment in one of Roach’s saddlebags. True to the bard’s word, more letters do find their way into Geralt’s hands as the weeks pass. A courier stops him on the road to hand one to him and dashes off the moment it leaves his hand. On one memorable occasion, a letter arrives attached to the leg of a very patient raven. Each letter contains very little in the way of usable or practical information, but so much of what makes Jaskier  _ Jaskier _ that Geralt rarely feels alone anymore. His companion may not physically be by his side, but the witcher carries his words with him and they help to fill the void. The time spent apart is temporary and fleeting and Geralt can see the reunion with his dear friend draw closer with each new day.

* * *

“I would apologize for how frequently I write to you, but sometimes I find it intolerable that I cannot speak with you whenever I wish. I miss your wit, dry as it may be. Perhaps I miss it because of its dryness, rather than in spite of it. No one is your match when it comes to observational humor and I am sick to death of my jokes falling flat on unappreciative ears. Necessary as our separations are, sometimes I feel as though I cannot breathe for your absence. 

With bated breath, 

yours,

_ Jaskier” _

**Author's Note:**

> Please do yourself a favor and check out the art that was drawn based on this fic by the absolutely wonderful Anna Blume:  
> ['With Bated Breath'](https://twitter.com/annablumedraws/status/1311392189180792832?s=20)
> 
> Find me on Twitter and Tumblr @vvitchering for more witcher shenanigans


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